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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29641038">First Impressions</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Familiae/pseuds/Familiae'>Familiae</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice Fusion, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:00:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,516</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29641038</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Familiae/pseuds/Familiae</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Felix sighed. “With your unwillingness to actually talk to strangers, I doubt you’ll ever find yourself married.”</p><p>Markus snorted, loudly and rudely. “Not interested in marriage.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Male Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The summer heat was very reminiscent of a headstrong child this year, rushing to grow up and show a more mature version of itself as quickly as possible. That is to say, despite the fact that the calendar read mid-May, the sun was doing a fine job at convincing anyone and everyone that it was the height of summer. And that somehow, the Hollyhock House had transported itself closer to the equator where the heat grew so intense, the best anyone could hope to do was to find a piece of shade to curl under and wait out the unbearable temperatures. What was worse—it was only a little past dawn, and already the air was scorched of its moisture, the dew vaporized as soon as a sliver of sun crested the horizon.<br/><br/>And yet, life did not stop simply because of the unbearable living conditions of the summer days. The chickens needed feeding, the horses needed to be put to pasture, the sheep needed their water troughs filled, the pigs needed their slop, the gardens needed tending.<br/><br/>“Markus,” Felix said weakly from atop his bed, his eyes not bothering to wander from the rafters above him. Barely more than two hours ago he had woken, and yet already he felt as though he were sapped of his energy. All he had managed to do was drag himself downstairs for breakfast before returning to his bed and collapsing on it. His brothers had all taken his lead and done the same.<br/><br/>There was some sort of grunt from next to him. Felix assumed that was Markus attempting to say something along the lines of “what could you possibly want of me right now that you can actually summon the will to speak in this heat” in as few words and using as little movement and effort as possible.<br/><br/>“We need to get everyone out of bed,” Felix explained, “so we can do our chores.”<br/><br/>Markus made another single grunting noise that likely meant something like “this sounds like a terrible idea and I’m not convinced it’s actually necessary.”<br/>Felix let his eyes close to rest for a moment. He would say something to convince both Markus and himself to get out of bed in just a moment... just a moment... just one...<br/><br/>His eyelashes fluttered as he struggled to open his eyes. He’d dozed off.<br/><br/>“Gentlemen,” Coen said mildly from the doorway.<br/><br/>Felix forced himself to his elbows guiltily. Sweat made his nightshirt cling to his back in a rather unpleasant manner.<br/><br/>“I see you’d rather watch the livestock slowly starve than dare set foot outside. No matter, though. I don’t suppose we need the meat for eating, nor the eggs for cooking, nor the fleece for making new trousers and vests.”<br/><br/>The words were somehow made worse with the mild manner in which Coen spoke. He didn’t sound angry or accusatory. Rather, he was just stating facts; commenting on their lack of survival chances because of their lazy habits.<br/><br/>“We were just getting up to go do that,” Felix assured him.<br/><br/>Next to him, Markus had also sat up. He made a grunting noise that meant something like “our mistake and it won’t happen again.”<br/><br/>“I wasn’t,” Casper muttered sleepily, splayed dramatically across the bed he laid in, fully enjoying his turn to sleep alone.<br/><br/>“Coen,” Trevor muttered, rubbing crust from his eyes and yawning, “is it true there’s someone staying in Netherfield Park? Seth wouldn’t shut up about—”<br/><br/>“It is,” Seth said from next to Trevor, quickly so as not to allow anyone else a chance speak or divert the topic. “I took a run past it last night and the place is all lit up! Someone’s living there now!”<br/><br/>“A run?” Coen asked. “On horseback?”<br/><br/>Seth wilted. “Well... no...”<br/><br/>“In a carriage, then?” Coen said.<br/><br/>Seth fiddled with his fingers. “Well... no...”<br/><br/>“Pray tell, how did you manage to run, then?”<br/><br/>Seth winced. “With my own two feet?”<br/><br/>“I assume you took your boots?”<br/><br/>Seth fidgeted and quickly covered his filthy feet. “Not exactly.”<br/><br/>Coen said nothing. He didn’t need to. He stared at Seth in silence, expression unchanging, for several long moments. Seth continued to shrivel more and more into himself with every tick of the clock, the only sound to fill the silence.<br/><br/>Finally, Coen said, “I expect the chores done promptly.”<br/><br/>Mutters and grunts from everyone.<br/><br/>“I do believe,” Coen added casually, turning to shuffle his large form through the doorframe, “that there is to be a ball in a fortnight. Should we have the meat for eating and the eggs for cooking that we do not starve beforehand, we might consider going. Especially if we have the fleece for spinning new trousers and vests.”<br/><br/>Seth was the first to fly from his bed and rip out of his sleeping clothes. Trevor enthusiastically followed suit. Felix needed to encourage Markus along. Casper muttered, “I was fine with starving” even as he crawled to his feet.<br/><br/>“Seth, your feet are filthy,” Trevor complained as Seth ran across a shirt that was laying next to their shared bed. “Stop touching my clothes with them.”<br/><br/>“Stop leaving your clean clothes on the floor,” Seth retorted.<br/><br/>Markus rolled over in the bed, pausing only to flip his pillow over, likely in an attempt to have a cooler surface to lay his sweating face on.<br/><br/>“Markus,” Felix teased, “quicker we get everything done, the quicker we can find a tree with nice shade to rest under.”<br/><br/>“Or swim in the creek?” Seth added hopefully.<br/><br/>“Or swim in the creek,” Felix allowed. Seth cheered as he kicked his legs into his trousers and folded them up to his knees.<br/><br/>Markus made some sort of noise that seemed to say, “I couldn’t be less interested right now and not even an impromptu trip to a snowy mountain top could convince me to move.”<br/><br/>That was when Felix needed to encourage Markus along. And so, he went over to the bed they shared, grabbed the mattress with his hands, and with a heave, he lifted it as high as his arms could reach. Pillows, blankets, and a solid body thumped to the ground in an ungraceful heap. Felix dropped the mattress, walked around to the other side of the bed to toss the fallen bed clothes back onto the mattress, and gently pulled Markus to his feet.<br/><br/>Markus was muttering growled curses and gesturing with such ferocious violence that Felix was certain Markus was trying to curse him out of existence. Felix let him spit, curse, and gesticulate and worried more about changing out of his sleep clothes.<br/><br/>“Someone had to do something to get you out of bed,” Felix explained as he folded up the sleeves of his tunic. It was too hot for vests today. It was too hot to even worry about proper attire. Felix was mildly impressed Trevor could even be persuaded into trousers.<br/><br/>Markus continued to snarl as he changed, pausing every so often to make a gesture in Felix’s direction. Felix was now certain he had so many curses on his person that he wouldn’t live to see winter. He took it in stride as he took all things he found displeasing or unsettling.<br/><br/>“I’ll pump the water and you can all feed whoever needs fed,” Felix offered, assigning himself the most hated task of the lot.<br/><br/>They agreed, split the rest of the chores amongst themselves, and galloped down the stairs with such little care that they had the foundations of the house rattling. It took them nearly two hours to tend to the animals and various other chores on the farm. By the time they were done, they had a coating of dust sticking to their sweat-dampened skin. Regardless if it had been said in jest, nobody snubbed the idea of cooling off at the creek that separated their property from the neighbor’s.<br/><br/>While little actual swimming was done—the creek was far too shallow for that, barely reaching their knees at its deepest point—it still felt good for Felix to tear off his boots and let his feet sink in the water, the cool silt squelching between his toes. His brothers joined him, wading ankle-deep along the lapping shores. Markus splashed his neck, arms, and chest several times, letting the icy water seep into his tunic before he collapsed at the base of a tree nearby, enjoying the shade. Felix joined him. The grass was pleasantly soft and cool against his bare feet as he trekked over.<br/><br/>“Who do you think moved in Netherfield?” Felix asked.<br/><br/>Markus made an angry noise that sounded very similar to a feral cat’s warning hiss and likely meant something like “not sure why you think I’d want to talk to you right now.”<br/><br/>Felix looked at him. “You can’t still be mad at me?”<br/><br/>Markus remained petulantly silent, answer enough. Felix sighed and closed his eyes. Markus’ moods were predictable, like the ocean’s tide, even if they didn’t run on a similar schedule. It was useless to try to speak with him and coax him out of a foul temper. And anyway, the heat was making Felix’s thoughts clumsy and hard to hold onto. It was the type of heat that made the body tighten up at the joints and turned any attempted movements slow and sluggish as a result. It was the sort of day that begged a nap.<br/><br/>Casper, Seth, and Trevor had collapsed similarly under the waning shade of the large Elder tree, shifting closer together as the sun circled above. Felix thought he must have dozed because he startled and opened his eyes at the clatter of hooves. Around him, his brothers similarly pulled themselves from states of repose with much reluctance.<br/><br/>A man on horseback was quickly approaching the stream. He slowed and slid from the saddle, allowing the large bay stallion free reign to nose at the creek. The man removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. He moved near the stream and took several handfuls of water and lightly splashed at his face.<br/><br/>All of the brothers watched in sleepy confusion, remaining silent.<br/><br/>“Well,” the man sighed, running his wet hands along the back of his neck and not looking at anything in particular, “the country is very hot, isn’t it?”<br/><br/>The brothers exchanged glances, wondering which of them the man was speaking, and without any sort of greeting or even introduction. It seemed rather rude, but the brothers had never lived by strict adherence of etiquette expectations.<br/><br/>The man looked at his horse and spoke again. “Do you enjoy it here as much as I do?”<br/><br/>The horse neither responded nor even deigned to look at his master. Eyes closed, he twitched his face as some sort of flying insect landed on it.<br/><br/>“Yes, I quite think so, too,” the man agreed cordially.<br/><br/>“Do you often talk to your horse?” Seth blurted. Casper elbowed him none-too-discreetly. Seth winced and—not understanding, apparently, that it was not a lack of honorific that was offensive but the blunt nature of the question—he added, “Sir?”<br/><br/>The man looked up, startled. “Oh,” he called back, “I didn’t see you there.”<br/><br/>They had all noticed that fact, though thought it odd considering they reclined no further than twenty paces from the stream.<br/><br/>“I enjoy speaking to my companions,” the man went on, “whether they walk on two legs or four. Seems quite cruel to deny someone the pleasure of conversation merely because of how many feet they use.”<br/><br/>They all stared at one another, the brothers with no idea how to proceed. It seemed improper being found under a tree in various states of undress. Felix was pretty sure Markus had pulled his tunic off completely and was using it as a pillow beneath his head. Quite a first impression they were all making.<br/><br/>The man’s smile grew wider as he carefully considered the five sloppy siblings. “I’m quite pleased to have made your acquaintances. I do beg you to tell me your names so I might use them and address you properly?”<br/><br/>Seth seemed apologetic about his earlier blurting and looked to Felix for assistance.<br/><br/>“I’m Felix,” he called, and listed off his brothers, starting with those sitting or laying closest. “This is Trevor, the youngest of us. Casper is just here. Seth you’ve already spoken to, and Markus is...”<br/><br/>Felix gestured towards Markus, who hadn’t even bothered to lift his head. Felix wasn’t sure if the man was even able to fully see Markus through the long grass.<br/><br/>“Quite tired, it seems.” The man laughed. “I can’t blame him. It is quite hot today. Shall I join you, Markus?”<br/><br/>The man meant it in jest or thought perhaps that Markus was too embarrassed by his current state to show his face and meant to ease Markus’ humiliation. What the man did not know was that Markus cared very little about proper manners and etiquette and didn’t even deem the man worth the energy it would take to lift his head for a proper hello.<br/><br/>In response to the man’s polite words, Markus raised a single hand and made a gesture. Felix was pretty sure it was very rude. The man’s smile waned as he squinted, trying to make out Markus’ silent greeting.<br/><br/>“And what is your name, sir?” Felix asked quickly so as to draw the man’s attention away.<br/><br/>“Adam Antonsson,” he introduced himself. “I recently moved into—”<br/><br/>But where he had just moved to would remain a mystery a little longer to the brothers, for another figure came into view over the field, spurring his horse into a hard gallop. The conversation shuttered to a stop until the newcomer pulled up on the reigns of his horse and stopped two paces from Mr. Antonsson.<br/><br/>“Adam,” the newcomer said brusquely, “you said you just wanted to water the horse. I thought we were going to run along the full perimeter of the property before supper?”<br/><br/>“Yes, that was the plan,” Mr. Antonsson agreed easily, another easy smile curling his lips. “I met some lovely people, and—”<br/><br/>“Where?” the newcomer demanded skeptically, looking around near to where they were. “Speaking to your horse again?”<br/><br/>“Ah.” Adam cleared his throat and looked towards where the brothers still lay, again watching the scene with little idea how to proceed.<br/><br/>The newcomer shielded his eyes against the sun and finally spotted them. “I see,” he said slowly. “Tramps, are they?” And then the newcomer lowered his voice and murmured something in private to Mr. Antonsson.<br/><br/>Mr. Antonsson burst into loud laughter. “They are not beggars! And certainly not lepers! Hunter, you really must learn to read situations better.”<br/><br/>The newcomer—Hunter—turned towards them with hooded, suspicious eyes. Did the brothers look so ragged in their various states of undress as to resemble wandering lepers, reliant on begging to get by? Felix doubted so and returned the newcomer’s suspicious gaze with a steady one of his own.<br/><br/>“Forgive my friend,” Mr. Antonsson called to them. “He doesn’t have many opportunities to socialize as you might expect of him.”<br/><br/>Felix finally managed to find his voice. “And does your friend have a name, as well?”<br/><br/>“Hunter Henderson,” Mr. Antonsson called back. Mr. Henderson, meanwhile, seemed bored of the conversation.<br/><br/>He turned his dappled horse away and called over his shoulder, “Adam, we haven’t all day. Karsten organized a lavish supper for us tonight. We must finish up and return.”<br/><br/>“Ah, yes. Yes, of course…” Mr. Antonsson looked disappointed as he turned back to the brothers. “It was very nice to meet you all. We shall see one another again soon, I’m sure!”<br/><br/>And with that, he climbed back atop his bay stallion and followed after Mr. Henderson, leaving the brothers in quite the muddled state, unsure if they were offended, amused, or feeling some other emotion about the exchange. Perhaps the full mixture was felt between all the brothers.<br/><br/>“Well, that was an interesting encounter,” Felix said, feeling somewhere on the amused side.<br/><br/>"Wonder if we’ll see him again,” Seth murmured, likely somewhere in the ‘other’ category.<br/><br/>Markus snorted loudly from where he lay, definitely somewhere in the offended section. That was no surprise, though, given his earlier sour attitude. Markus liked to paint his interactions with those around him based on his current mood.<br/><br/>“You didn’t like him?” Felix teased, already knowing he was prodding for disaster.<br/><br/>Markus lifted an arm from over his eyes to peer at Felix with narrowed eyes. He muttered something, and while all the words were hard to make out, he caught enough of them to understand that Markus believed the Mr. Antonsson to be akin to donkeys—or, rather, the more rude term for them—and that if he had to find anything agreeable about the man, it would be his horse. Markus never found fault in animals.<br/><br/>Felix sighed. “With your unwillingness to actually talk to strangers, I doubt you’ll ever find yourself married.”<br/><br/>Markus snorted, loudly and rudely. “Not interested in marriage.”<br/><br/>“Well, not to fret,” Felix said with no small amount of exasperation. “With how terribly you treated him, I’m sure Mr. Antonsson won’t be eager to seek you out even if we do meet him again.”<br/><br/>“Good,” Markus grunted, letting his arm fall over his eyes again.<br/><br/>Seth leaned towards Felix. “I’d marry him,” he said not-so-conspiratorially in a whisper that he didn’t fully realize wasn’t quite a whisper.<br/><br/>“He’d make a fine husband,” Felix agreed.<br/><br/>Markus scoffed loudly, the only comment he was willing to make on the matter.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Many had pointed opinions about the Hollyhock House. Neighbors didn’t like to call on the owner of the property. He was odd and would only give out one name by which to be called: Coen. Nobody was certain if that was his surname or Christian name. Nobody knew exactly how he came by five boys to raise as his own. Coen was too quiet and private to ever gossip about such things. The one thing that the neighbors did know was that the boys came to Coen as children, dirty and unwanted, penniless and lacking in family or prospects. Hollyhock House wasn’t an orphanage, but it may as well have been. While the neighbors didn’t spurn Coen and his soft heart, they were quick to whisper behind silken fans and raised fists that the children who passed through the home were doomed in terms of marriage prospects.<br/><br/>Coen refused to allow such negative thoughts to loom under the roof of his home, however. He was a realistic, but not a pessimist. He didn’t linger on the poor quality of the boys’ marriage prospects, but neither did he fill their heads with ridiculous, fanciful lies of marrying nobility or royalty.<br/><br/>That was why it was an utter shock when he announced, quite unprecedented, at dinner, “We are to attend a ball at Netherfield next week.” It was even more topsy-turvy when he added, “You will all bathe, don your finest clothes, and I will introduce you to the lord of the house.”<br/><br/>All motion came to a halt, forks and knives screeching and then clinking on plates and their handlers came to an abrupt halt and then dropped their silverware with various degrees of grace. All eyes were on Coen, wide and disbelieving. Well, all except Markus, who continued to flip his food around his plate in his usual manner before shoveling it into his mouth at random intervals.<br/><br/>Coen pointedly looked about the room. “Is there someone standing behind me? Perhaps in the window?” he demanded grumpily. “Are they in a state of undress? Is that why you are gaping so?”<br/><br/>“I think you <em>almost</em> just said that you hope one of us will marry the lord of Netherfield,” Felix commented, his lips curling up in a sly smile. “Why, Coen, have you a fever? Is the heat fogging your thoughts?"<br/><br/>“I never mentioned marriage,” Coen groused.<br/><br/>“Why else would you have us attend a ball?” Casper asked. “And why go through the bother of introducing us?”<br/><br/>“Are you planning on introducing us to all the well-off nobility as marriage prospects?” Trevor asked eagerly.<br/><br/>“I don’t think we have clothes fancy enough for that kind of thing,” Seth fretted.<br/><br/>Markus remained without comment, using the tines of his fork to crush his potatoes.<br/><br/>“Gentlemen,” Coen barked, holding up a hand to demand quiet. “You read too far into my motivation. I merely wanted to give you notice of the plans for next week. The next time you are to attend such festivities, I shall let you know five minutes before we are scheduled to leave.”<br/><br/>Trevor rolled his eyes. “Like it would make a difference. We aren’t <em>ladies</em>, Coen. It takes us less than a minute to shuffle into our trousers.”<br/><br/>“I think we need more than just britches for a ball,” Seth pointed out.<br/><br/>Trevor scowled. “But what if it’s hot?”<br/><br/>“I don’t think that matters,” Seth lamented.<br/><br/>“I’m not going anywhere with someone who doesn’t even know how to properly lace up his britches,” Casper muttered.<br/><br/>“My trousers are just fine!” Trevor protested.<br/><br/>Coen said nothing. He did not intervene or correct any one of the boys as they continued to bicker over their meal. The only time he spoke a word of chastisement was when Trevor lost his temper at Casper and used his dessert spoon to fling a glob of smashed potatoes from Markus’ plate at Trevor. Then, Coen forcefully reminded the boys that they were men, not baboons, and were to use their cutlery as it was appropriately fashioned to be used.<br/><br/>Felix supposed that any passerby or nosey neighbor might have had their suspicions of the boys of Hollyhock House confirmed were they to pass by and spy them that night. They were a bunch of raucous, rambunctious children with no care or concern about how their actions affected the reputation of their characters.<br/><br/>They were happiest that way.<br/><br/></p><p>***<br/><br/></p><p>It wasn’t until the brothers were all settled in their beds—after the usual nightly round of squabbling over who got to sleep alone in the third bed—that Felix murmured to Markus in the darkness, “You didn’t mention if you were excited about the ball.”<br/><br/>Markus remained quiet. Felix nudged him and he made a disapproving noise that clearly meant something along the lines of “why’d’ya wake me up?”<br/><br/>“You weren’t sleeping,” Felix admonished lightly. “Don’t pretend just to get out of the conversation.”<br/><br/>Markus grumbled but didn’t press the point.<br/><br/>“So? What do you think of the ball?”<br/><br/>Markus made a long-suffering noise. That was answer enough, apparently.<br/><br/>“That’s not a real answer,” Felix pressed. “Aren’t you excited to meet handsome people or anything?”<br/><br/>Markus finally rolled over and cracked on eye open enough to sullenly glare at Felix. “It’s an answer,” he groused.<br/><br/>“Not a proper one,” Felix pushed.<br/><br/>Markus closed his eye, pointedly implying he was ready for sleep.<br/><br/>Felix made his own long-suffering noise. While Markus may have had no regard for his future in terms of a romantic partner or marriage, Felix had to admit he was growing worried. Markus was the oldest of the brothers, and as the clock ticked the days by, Felix had to wonder if the mutterings of the town’s gossips were true and the whole lot of them were doomed to live to their old age with nobody but one another for comfort.<br/><br/>Which, honestly speaking, wasn’t the worst fate he could imagine. Felix had come to adore all his brothers—<br/><br/>Casper let loose a long, buttock-flapping gale of gas.<br/><br/>“That was right on my ass!” Trevor yelped, jumping so hard he landed half off the bed. “What the hell? That was <em>wet!</em>”<br/><br/>Seth snickered from his coveted place on the third bed.<br/><br/>“This isn’t fair!” Trevor wailed. “How does Seth get his own bed when he drew the short straw?”<br/><br/>“Because it’s been over two months since I got to sleep alone!” Seth shot back. “And you cheat and keep a fake straw up your sleeve!”<br/><br/>Trevor huffed indignantly and muttered, though only in broken bits of sentences because he didn’t seem to know how to defend himself against the truth. He did, in fact, keep a spare short straw up his sleeve—cut so short it could barely be called a straw—that he frequently employed. Everybody knew it, but nobody had the heart to point out that if one was going to cheat, one had to at least <em>attempt</em> to be sneaky or sly about it. Pulling a miniature matchstick out and proclaiming himself the winner was neither. And yet, the brothers weren’t sure how to go about politely informing Trevor that he lacked perhaps not only tact, but cleverness, as well.<br/><br/>All except Markus, of course, who couldn’t be bothered to seriously compete over the bed and resigned himself to sharing with Felix. And as such, he had little interest in pointing out the obvious flaws to Trevor’s self-proclaimed genius plan to score his own permanent unshared bed.<br/><br/>“I don’t know why you got your britches all twisted up again,” Casper intoned. “It’s natural.”<br/><br/>“There was nothing natural about that!” Trevor squawked, a hand over his nose and mouth. “There is nothing natural about the inner workings of your—”<br/><br/>A sharp tap-tap on the wall. Coen, laying in his bed in the room next to theirs, had rapped on the wall in a wordless reminder to quiet down so some people could actually sleep.<br/><br/>They all obediently nestled into their beds and hushed.<br/><br/>“Markus,” Felix whispered.<br/><br/>Markus grunted, a noise of defeated irritation.<br/><br/>“Aren’t you excited at all at the idea of falling in love?” Felix asked.<br/><br/>The silence stretched for so long that Felix thought he was going to have to repeat his question to wrangle an answer. But then, quietly, Markus breathed, “No.”<br/><br/>“Why not?”<br/><br/>This time Markus did refuse to answer. Felix thought about spurring his brother on for details, but suspected he already knew the reasoning behind Markus’s reply.<br/><br/>“You’re not nearly as unlovable as you like to paint yourself to be,” Felix said to the darkness of the room. Markus didn’t roll over to face him. He just kept breathing, slowly, like he was a step away from sleep. “And,” Felix continued, “there isn’t a reason why you don’t deserve happiness. Just make sure that if you marry, it’s with someone you actually adore.”<br/><br/>The sound of gentle breathing—and Trevor’s occasional snore—filled the air. Felix didn’t expect a reply and shifted to make himself more comfortable for sleep.<br/><br/>“You’re such a romantic.” The whisper was feather-soft. “It’s going to get you hurt.”<br/><br/>Felix was taken aback that Markus had deigned to continue their conversation—topics that fell into the softer range of emotions were ones that Markus pointedly avoided at all costs. He guarded his heart with a fervor that was close to paranoia—too close to it to frequently allow people a view of what he was so desperately protecting.<br/><br/>“Getting hurt isn’t a bad thing,” Felix said quietly. “When you heal, you heal twice as strong as you were before.”<br/><br/>Markus, it seemed, was done with the conversation. That was fine with Felix. It was enough for him that the conversation had progressed this far. And besides, even if Markus wouldn’t admit it or speak of it any further, Felix had a sneaking suspicion that his words weren’t met with the usual stubborn resistance that Markus barricaded himself with.<br/><br/>“Good night, Markus,” Felix whispered. “I love you.”<br/><br/>Yes, something must’ve penetrated Markus’ galvanized barricades because Markus actually whispered back, “Love you, too.”<br/><br/>There was nothing wrong with living with his brothers to the end of his days. Felix wouldn’t begrudge that fate at all, actually. It would be nice, of course, to be able to find a partner—an equal, so to speak—to live the rest of his days with. But if he had to settle on something else, he was happy to settle with his brothers.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Any passerby might be confused as to whether Seth was trying to dance with a length of fabric or trying to strangle himself with it. Or perhaps they would be more concerned with Casper as he tried to lather pomade onto his comb but wound up with smears of it up to his elbows.</p>
<p>“It’s hot tonight,” Trevor groused, grudgingly closing his shirt cuffs with freshly polished cuff links. “I still don’t know why I gotta wear this.”</p>
<p>Seth managed to lose his balance and stumbled, landing on his side, the length of fabric wrapped tightly around his neck.</p>
<p>“Civilized folk walk around properly dressed,” Felix reminded Trevor drily from where he sat in their shared room, polishing his shoes.</p>
<p>“Doubt it,” Trevor grunted.</p>
<p>Seth made strangled noises.</p>
<p>“So,” Casper cut in with a worried glance at where Seth lay sprawled in the middle of their bedroom, “I wasn’t gonna say anything since nobody else seemed concerned, but are we going to help him?”</p>
<p>“I’m still trying to figure out what he’s doing,” Felix admitted.</p>
<p>Seth’s face was slowly turning a bright red. Oxygen deprivation? Was he actually suffocating himself? With a concerned frown, Felix laid down his gleaming shoes and tucked a finger beneath the fabric that was wrapped tightly around Seth’s neck and gave it several tugs, successfully loosening it. Seth took several large, long, loud gulps of air, the maroon color fading from his face.</p>
<p>“I mean,” Casper said, staring down at Seth, “I know some of us are less excited than others about this ball”—a pointed, quick side-glance at Markus—“but I didn’t think it’d drive one of us to suicide. If you don’t want to go that fiercely, you should just tell Coen. Not resort to suicide.”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t”—wheeze—“do anything so”—pant—“drastic!” Seth assured the room at large.</p>
<p>Casper looked unimpressed. “Right. That’s why you were trying to use your cravat as a garotte.”</p>
<p>“Cravat?” Seth repeated, confused.</p>
<p>Casper pointed to the length of fabric bunched on Seth’s lap.</p>
<p>“This is a bow tie!” Seth exclaimed, scandalized.</p>
<p>“Getting fancy on us, are you?” Felix teased.</p>
<p>Seth shrugged, fiddling with the untied fabric, his face slowly flushing—most definitely from embarrassment this time and not asphyxiation. “I wanted to look nice to meet our new neighbor.”</p>
<p>“The one that’s said to be rich, handsome, and single?” Trevor asked. “And probably somewhere over ten years your senior?”</p>
<p>The red in Seth’s cheeks darkened. He mumbled, “Well, we don’t know for sure how old he is.”</p>
<p>“There’s nothing wrong with an age gap, either,” Felix said, coming to Seth’s rescue. He then turned towards his shared bed and placed his hands on his hips. “Markus, are you getting ready?”</p>
<p>“Ready,” Markus mumbled from beneath a pile of blankets.</p>
<p>“You’re still dressed in barn work clothes,” Felix pointed out.</p>
<p>“Yes,” his brother agreed easily.</p>
<p>“Not like it matters,” Trevor interjected. “Markus always looks so scrappy. He doesn’t put any effort into his appearance. Nobody would even notice if he wore old work clothes as opposed to nice dress clothes.”</p>
<p>Felix looked sharply at Trevor, cutting his snicker off mid-chortle. Trevor shrugged, eyes falling to the floor. “True though,” he muttered, half apologetically, as though that were an apology.</p>
<p>Felix turned to examine the room, and his brothers as a whole. What a mess they were, this motley bunch. He pulled Seth from his spot on the floor, disentangled his neck from the length of fabric that he had managed to nearly strangle himself with for a second time, and re-wrapped it neatly around Seth’s slim neck, and tied it off.</p>
<p>“Very stylish,” Felix commented. Seth beamed.</p>
<p>There was a bucket of warm water still sitting between the beds. The boys had used it earlier in the day to wash their faces. Despite the bath Coen had forced them to take the night before, the day’s barn work had left their faces and hands dusty. Felix grabbed the cloth from the bucket and started wiping down Casper’s arms, despite his protests. Arms and hands lard free, Felix took the comb that was tacky with pomade and flecked it through Casper’s hair. Casper scowled, obviously displeased with the attention.</p>
<p>“You look very mature for your age,” Felix teased, knowing that was why Casper had tried the pomade in the first place. Casper—obviously displeased at being found out—scowled even deeper.</p>
<p>Felix wiped the comb with the warm water to clean it of the sticky pomade and returned it to the table they kept it on.</p>
<p>“You can’t possibly take issue with me,” Trevor warned Felix as he approached. “I’m wearing trousers and a shirt. I even put on this stupid vest and— Don’t you— What are you reaching for?”</p>
<p>Felix’s fingers found the buttons of Trevor’s vest and nimbly undid them.</p>
<p>“You’re undoing my hard work! You made me put this on and now you— Where are you reaching?!”</p>
<p>Felix tapped on a hole in the shirt that was obviously meant for a button, but lacked one.</p>
<p>Trevor frowned. “This shirt,” he declared, “is defective. This would not be an issue,” he added sulkily, “if I didn’t have to wear one.”</p>
<p>The buttons were all quickly undone by Felix’s nimble fingers, and then he rebuttoned them all just as quickly.</p>
<p>“What a waste of time!” Trevor said with exasperation. “I should just dispose of—”</p>
<p>With an amused noise, Felix tapped on the same hole in the shirt, now filled with a button. Once Trevor noticed and goggled, Felix rebuttoned Trevor’s vest, hiding the shirt mostly from view.</p>
<p>“But how did you do that?” Trevor asked, mystified. “Magic? The button came out of nowhere.”</p>
<p>“They weren’t aligned,” Felix explained neutrally. “You had an unmatched button sitting by its lonesome up at your throat.”</p>
<p>Trevor blinked in surprise, not expecting such a logical—or simple—explanation. “Oh.”</p>
<p>Casper scoffed. Even Seth chuckled. Felix turned towards his bed.</p>
<p>“Your turn, Markus,” Felix announced.</p>
<p>“I’m already ready,” Markus groused.</p>
<p>But Felix was not deterred. He gently pulled the grudging Markus into a sitting position and held out a clean button up shirt for him to change into. When Markus balked, Felix quickly untied the loose shirt and reached for its hem.</p>
<p>“Up,” Felix urged. With a few nasty words about Felix, Markus obeyed and raised his arms.</p>
<p>Felix then tossed the button-up shirt around Markus’ shoulders like it was a cape and guided his arms into the appropriate places and began buttoning it up.</p>
<p>“I’m not a toddler,” Markus groused.</p>
<p>“Surely not,” Felix agreed easily.</p>
<p>“I don’t need to be dressed.”</p>
<p>“Of course not,” Felix agreed, just as easily.</p>
<p>“I don’t need your help.”</p>
<p>“And yet, I give it freely. Look up.”</p>
<p>Markus did so and Felix used the cloth from the warm bucket of water to wipe away stray smears of grit. He looked ready to flinch away and throw a fit about not needing to be hand bathed, but Felix was too quick and managed to (rather sloppily, admittedly) wipe down Markus’ face and leave him squeaky clean.</p>
<p>“What would we do without you, Felix?” Seth asked sincerely from where he stood before a mirror, playing with his hair and trying to style it, as Markus spit and scrubbed at his face in a tantrum.</p>
<p>“We’d be fine,” Trevor groused. “The better question is, why do you actually look good in these ridiculous clothes?”</p>
<p>“It’s his coloring,” Casper explained sagely. “His pale skin and black hair complement the black and white of our formal wear.”</p>
<p>Trevor grunted. “Think we have time to dye my hair black before the party?”</p>
<p>“You all look perfectly fine,” Felix said with a roll of his eyes. “Seth looks fabulous in his bowtie.” Seth beamed. “Casper’s new hair style is very handsome.” Casper scowled at the compliment. “Trevor looks dashing wearing a shirt for once.” Trevor squinted suspiciously at Felix, as though looking for the insult. “And Markus looks prim and proper all cleaned up and in his finest clothes.” Markus flopped back onto the bed with a noise of contempt and moved to cover himself again with blankets. It was a game of speed on Felix’s part to keep Markus from doing so.</p>
<p>There was a rap on their bedroom door before Coen called gruffly, “The gremlin’s downstairs.”</p>
<p>“I’m right here,” another person said, more quietly and much more chipper in tone.</p>
<p>“You’re supposed to be downstairs,” Coen told the chipper person, sounding disconcerted and even more gruff.</p>
<p>“I never wait downstairs,” the first person said, sounding scandalized.</p>
<p>“You act like you live here,” Coen grumbled.</p>
<p>“Can I?” asked the first person eagerly.</p>
<p>There was no immediate reply, but the clomping of heavy feet as they moved away from the door. More likely than not, Coen was quickly fleeing the situation rather than answer.</p>
<p>“That’s not a no!” the chipper person called after the retreating Coen.</p>
<p>“Jo,” Felix said, loud enough to carry through the still-closed door, “just get in here and help me convince Markus to put on his formal shoes.”</p>
<p>The door opened and in sauntered a fine young gentleman.</p>
<p>Fine gentleman or not, Felix understood that the neighbors—the same ones who whispered about the poor prospects of the boys of Hollyhock house and the improper etiquette of said boys—felt their suspicions were founded when the boys, and even Coen, welcomed a gentleman such as Jo without judgement. For while Jo was dressed smartly in the normal black and white attire of a gentlemen, his hair was long, tied and pinned in elaborate swoops and curls. It was a lovely black color with silver and white dye brushed throughout the locks and silver ornaments tucked here and there. Jo wore the clothing of a gentleman and the wig of a woman. Sometimes, he liked to wear elegant ball gowns to match his hair.</p>
<p>But always, he preferred the hair of a woman.</p>
<p>“Women’s hair is just so much more beautiful than men’s,” Jo had confided in Felix once, when they were younger. “And I like to be beautiful. I don’t understand why they hate me for that.”</p>
<p>It was after some of the neighbors—neighbors who did not know Jo, not really—had made snide comments about his gender fluidity.</p>
<p>“They hate what they’re envious of,” Felix had assured Jo all those years ago. “And you’re too pretty not to be the object of anyone’s envy.”</p>
<p>“Beautiful,” Jo had corrected.</p>
<p>“Beautiful,” Felix had agreed.</p>
<p>Felix thought Jo always looked lovely. He didn’t understand why anyone would take issue with Jo. And even if they did, Felix understood even less why they felt the need to use their words like weapons and attack someone. Though Felix was the sort who used his words carefully. Perhaps he didn’t understand because it was against his nature to speak so viciously.</p>
<p>Mostly, Felix adored Jo because he had no qualms in dealing with Markus.</p>
<p>“Shoes, you say?” Jo said, a gleam in his eye. “I’ll hold him down, you shove his feet in?”</p>
<p>Markus tucked his feet under his body in an attempt to hide the raggedy shoes he wore. “I can dress myself,” he pointed out.</p>
<p>Jo waved a white gloved hand flippantly. “Sure, yes, of course.” And then he looked at Felix. “That’s a yes, then?”</p>
<p>“I can dress myself,” Markus repeated firmly.</p>
<p>“We know,” Felix assured him. “We’re waiting with bated breath for you to put your shoes on.”</p>
<p>“There’s nothing wrong with the shoes that I’m wearing,” Markus reminded them.</p>
<p>Felix barely spared the thread-bare scraps of leather that Markus called shoes a glance before he nodded grimly at Jo. “You hold him, I’ll get his shoes on.”</p>
<p>Which was unfortunate because Markus was not afraid to kick, as it turned out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>To the boys’ general dismay, it wasn’t their new neighbor at Netherfield himself who held the social, but a different neighbor—one of the older ladies who enjoyed dancing but moved through the moves with all the grace of a blind squirrel. But her estate was large enough to accommodate an open invitation event for all those living in the south side of the village, and the new lord of Netherfield had been on the list of invitees.<br/><br/>“What’s the lady’s name again?” Seth asked in a hissed whisper as the five brothers plus Jo entered the large front door, followed closely by Coen.<br/><br/>“Um,” Felix murmured, thinking hard. He remembered the woman was nice. She had a dog. Or a nephew? She wasn’t married. Or maybe she was widowed?<br/><br/>“Just call her ‘lady,’” Casper offered. “That’s an easy filler for when you don’t know someone’s name.”<br/><br/>“Oh.” Seth’s eyebrows rose as he tucked that fact away. “Thanks.”<br/><br/>“Stick with me, li’l bro,” Casper said, tossing an arm over Seth’s shoulders, “and you’ll be a master of these events in no time.”<br/><br/>Jo gave Casper a scrutinizing look. “I doubt that very much.”<br/><br/>They were led from the foyer to a larger room that was furnished with the usual things that came with socials such as this: a chandelier with glass baubles dripping from its arms, portraits of unknown figures who were believed to be of the utmost importance by the owner of the estate despite their anonymity amongst the guests, and a grand pianoforte.<br/><br/>“So, when do we meet the new neighbor?” Seth demanded of Coen immediately.<br/><br/>Coen picked at his collar with a frown. “Our new neighbor is the talk of the evening. He’ll find his way to us.”<br/><br/>Seth groaned.<br/><br/>“Why don’t we start off our evening with drinks?” Felix offered. “Have they started serving them? Perhaps Markus and I can go and find out.”<br/><br/>Markus looked at Felix suspiciously. “That doesn’t require two people.”<br/><br/>“Oh, forget the drinks,” Jo said with a devious grin. “I’m going to go fill my dance card.”<br/><br/>Felix followed Jo’s gaze and saw a golden-haired young man across the room, standing quietly amongst a group of older men. Felix instantly recognized him as Mr. Henderson, the companion who had accompanied Mr. Antonsson the other day and who had seemed quite sour.<br/><br/>“You don’t have a dance card,” Felix reminded Jo, but Jo batted the comment away with a fierce back hand to the open air and made his way across the room towards Mr. Henderson.<br/><br/>Leaving Jo to his nature, Felix took Markus by the arm and tugged him away from the crush of their brothers.<br/><br/>“Why do I suspect this isn’t about drinks?” Markus muttered.<br/><br/>“Well, I’m sure we can flag down a member of the wait staff and get ourselves some drinks.”<br/><br/>“So, this <em>isn’t</em> about the drinks,” Markus lamented miserably.<br/><br/>Felix deftly wove through the crowds of people gathered in bunches of four or five, looking for a quiet corner. He found none and resigned himself to having this discussion as far towards the corner of the room as possible. “I just want you to know that I’m on your side. So, if you find someone you really like, I want to help you out any way that I can.”<br/><br/>Felix thought to say more—to remind Markus that he adored him and wanted to support him in whatever way he could manage—but the look Markus gave him warned him away from such soft sentiment. It was a sharply suspicious look, punctuated with a scowl. “I don’t need help because I’m not going to meet anyone who—”<br/><br/>“Ah, drinks!” Felix cried, pointedly interrupting Markus and stepping near a staff member who held a tray of delicate glasses. He handed Markus two before taking two for himself.<br/><br/>“Save one for me!” someone called in a tone of voice that seemed on the verge of laughter.<br/><br/>Felix turned to see Mr. Antonsson approaching them and tipped his head in a polite greeting with a cheerful “Good evening.”<br/><br/>Mr. Antonsson’s hazel eyes seemed permanently creased at the corners in an expression that looked on the verge of smiling laughter, even when he wasn’t expressly smiling. Felix liked that. He liked someone who looked like he was always enjoying a joke, even if nobody else knew what it was.<br/><br/>“Is no one else to enjoy our host’s fine wine?” Mr. Antonsson asked, eyes dropping to the glasses that filled each of Felix and Markus’ hands.<br/><br/>“I surely hope not,” Felix replied immediately, sounding affronted. “My good sir, wine fogs the memory! This is a night I wish all to remember!”<br/><br/>Markus muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Makes one of us.” Felix had to remember to stay in character and not nudge him with an elbow. And also, rude—that would be rude.<br/><br/>“Ah, a good Samaritan. I see.” Mr. Antonsson nodded gravely, but a smile curled at the edge of his lips. “Well, let me help you in your task and take two wine glasses as well.”<br/><br/>“But if you do that,” Felix protested with distress, “you won’t remember making friends with us!”<br/><br/>“I assure you,” Mr. Antonsson said with a touch of sincerity that wasn’t in his tone a moment ago, “I shall surely remember you regardless how much of this wine I treat myself to.”<br/><br/>Markus made a noise that was quite hard to describe. Something like a groan, a gag, and a sigh woven together into a single skeptical scoff. Both Felix and Mr. Antonsson looked at him, quite concerned. Markus’ face flushed at the edges and he hastily took a slurp of wine. Too hasty, it seemed. He sputtered and coughed, eyes watering.<br/><br/>Mr. Antonsson managed to move quicker than Felix, sliding next to Markus and giving his back a firm smack. “Can you breathe?” he asked.<br/><br/>Markus used the shoulder of his jacket as a napkin to smear his face on. Luckily, the deep red of the wine was absorbed and hidden well by the black material. He nodded, muttering, “Yes.”<br/><br/>“Very good. You had us worried there for a moment, Markus.” Mr. Antonsson’s hand squeezed Markus’ shoulder—Felix had to admit he hadn’t quite realized it had settled there and doubted very much that the contact was overly appreciated by the antisocial Markus—before withdrawing it.<br/><br/>Markus peered at the young gentleman with thinly veiled suspicion. “I didn’t give you my name.” His suspicious look settled on Felix after a moment as though he thought Felix had taken to communicating with the partygoers in code. Or had some machinations in the works where Felix sent out Markus’ name and information like it were merely a bill of sale for a horse with a note to encourage interested parties to make inquiries to Felix at their next convenience.<br/><br/>Which, if Felix were being honest, was something he would perhaps do, especially if Jo were involved in the scheming. However, Felix was saved from needing to argue his innocence when Mr. Antonsson laughed and said, “Your dear brother Felix introduced us the other day. Along the lake, remember? I was taking a ride through the countryside and happened upon you. We had a conversation. You were lying in the grass and seemed quite tired, if I recall correctly.”<br/><br/>Perhaps if Markus were the normal sort, he would feel flattered and pleased that someone remembered so many seemingly trivial details about such a fleeting encounter. However, Markus was nothing of the sort. He was too cynical and suspicious of the world. In his view, someone would take notice of such detailed things only if held an ulterior motive for the information. And kind words were the battle cry of an enemy declaring war.<br/><br/>As a creature of defense as opposed to offense, Markus did what he normally did when threatened. He curled into a ball and let his galvanized emotional defenses absorb most of the damage he was sure was to come.<br/><br/>Markus looked down, hunching into himself a bit, eyes even more firmly trained on the ground than normal. He muttered something small and unintelligible—something that could easily be construed as polite, mindless chatter that would remove him from immediate notice so that he could quickly exit the scene and find a safe place to hide.<br/><br/>In short, Felix could easily see that Markus was withdrawing. They were losing him.<br/><br/>“Markus is exceptional with animals,” Felix blurted. It wasn’t a particularly proper topic of discourse—nobody was overly interested in the details of livestock when they were gathered as bachelors and bachelorettes primed to socialize and catch one another’s eye—but it was what Felix had to work with.<br/><br/>Mr. Antonsson’s eyebrows went up briefly—an expression of piqued interest, Felix noted with victory, and not in blatant disbelief at the abrupt shift in discourse.<br/><br/>“Really?” Mr. Antonsson asked with curiosity. Markus seemed not to notice that. He still looked ready to bolt, like he thought this was some ploy and Mr. Antonsson was feigning interest to stay polite and keep everyone off his trail as he enacted some dastardly scheme with Felix the moment Markus allowed his defenses to relax. He opened his mouth—likely to blurt out a hasty excuse and try to bolt—but Mr. Antonsson was faster, continuing on, “I have a lovely bay mare who had a foal a while ago. I’m beginning his training. Are you familiar with training horses, Markus?”<br/><br/>Felix held his breath in a very literal sense.<br/><br/>“Sort of,” Markus admitted after a pause. “I, uh, have only worked with our old farm horses so it’s a bit different.”<br/><br/>“In a way, yes,” Mr. Antonsson agreed, “and in a way, no. You use many similar techniques, just employ them for a different result. Regardless of their age, horses are usually trained in the same manner.”<br/><br/>“Really?” Markus asked, surprised and—Felix finally let his held breath release—<em>interested</em>.<br/><br/>It took holy effort not to cry “Miracle!” and clap his hands together in a supplication of prayer to the heavens above. Markus was actually conversing with someone, and not simply out of a polite obligation of proper etiquette and manners.<br/><br/>Felix had never been particularly religious—spiritual, perhaps, but not religious—and it was likely that whatever God or gods existed above took offense at the fact that nearly religious thoughts were coming from his blasphemous mind. And perhaps whatever God or gods that existed above wanted to spurn Felix because it was at that precise moment that chaos was thrust upon him.<br/><br/>“<em>Feeeeeeeeeee</em>lix!” Jo crowed.<br/><br/>Felix tilted his head about and saw that not only Jo, but the rest of his brothers were approaching to crowd around him, each with their own complaint.<br/><br/>“Trevor keeps saying I look like a dandy!” Seth cried, utterly distressed.<br/><br/>“I keep saying your <em>bowtie</em> looks like a dandy,” Trevor corrected him.<br/><br/>“Felix said my bowtie looks fabulous,” Seth returned petulantly.<br/><br/>“It does look fabulous,” Felix interjected distractedly on autopilot. Despite his desire to move the conversation away from Markus and Mr. Antonsson—as not to be a distraction for them or for the loud noise to spook Markus into silence—he found it rather difficult not to affirm his brothers’ beliefs in their self-esteem. It was like asking a bird not to fly. It was an instinct he couldn’t choke out; something he was designed and built to do.<br/><br/>“Sure,” Trevor said with a shrug. “A fabulous dandy, then.”<br/><br/>And at the same time, Jo, furious and indignant and alight with injustice: “There are no men here who know how to appreciate true beauty.”<br/><br/>“It’s true,” Casper agreed. “I watched as Jo tried asking a handful of men to dance. They all said no, and some in a not very… proper manner.”<br/><br/>“I just can’t seem to fill out my dance card!” Jo huffed.<br/><br/>“There aren’t dance cards at this party,” Felix corrected distractedly on autopilot, his eyes roving through the cluster of people around him. Markus and Mr. Antonsson were still speaking together—had Felix heard Mr. Antonsson invite Markus to his estate so that Markus could watch the colt in his training?—but whatever conversation they were having cut off abruptly as Jo lifted a hand to his hair, found a dangling curl to toss over his shoulder in a huffy manner, and loudly declared, “And that Mr. Henderson is quite a piece of work!”<br/><br/>Mr. Antonsson cut off his sentence abruptly and his eyes went to Jo. Felix could already see by the concerned interest in his eyes that he was not going to return to his conversation with Markus so easily. Beside that, Felix could see the interest fading from Markus’ eyes as the conversation was put on hold, as though he were coming back to himself and remembering to keep the guests and their chatter at a sterile arms’ distance.<br/><br/>Loosing a small breath, Felix decided to temporarily forgo any plans he had of building a social network for Markus and focused his attention instead to the complaints of his family.<br/><br/>“Are you drinking all that wine by yourself?” Seth blurted in disbelief, eyeing the glasses Markus and Felix still held.<br/><br/>Wordlessly, Felix handed one to Casper and one to Seth. Casper sniffed his glass before making a face that suggested he had just been forced to shove his face into a rotting carcass. Seth eyed his glass with wide eyes.<br/><br/>“I say!” Trevor raged. “Where’s my glass?” He looked pointedly at the second glass Markus held, but before Markus could offer it, Felix interjected.<br/><br/>“You and Seth can share for now. It’s your first social, and I don’t want the wine going to your head.”<br/><br/>Seth slowly dipped his tongue into his glass experimentally.<br/><br/>“I wish you would have told me that sooner!” Trevor raged, eyes on Seth’s wine-licking tongue. Seth smacked his lips several times in appreciation as he tasted the sweet wine.<br/><br/>Mr. Antonsson had by this point edged closer. His gaze dropped briefly on Seth and Casper. “Your first dance, is it?”<br/><br/>Trevor momentarily forgot about his outrage and attempted a pose that Felix supposed was intended to seem mature and regal. It looked like Trevor was trying to peer at something in the distance as he comically pursed his lips for a kiss. “Yes, I just turned seventeen last month.”<br/><br/>“And I turned seventeen right after the Christmas season,” Seth said before dipping his tongue into the wine again. Trevor dropped all attempts at regal maturity and dove for the glass with a hissed “Keep your saliva out of my wine!”<br/><br/>“I hope you enjoy yourselves,” Mr. Antonsson told them with apparent sincerity, though a bit distractedly. “And I like your bowtie,” he added to Seth, who beamed brilliantly. Then, his attention fell on Jo, who was still flushed an angry red and glowering as he snatched a glass from a passing wait staff member.<br/><br/>“I don’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard you mention Mr. Henderson?” Mr. Antonsson asked.<br/><br/>“Yes,” Jo groused. “And what a ratbag he is!”<br/><br/>Mr. Antonsson’s smile looked pained. “I apologize if my friend offended you. I assure you, he isn’t normally unpleasant. He isn’t particularly skilled at properly expressing himself and more often than not, manages to offend new company.”<br/><br/>“He thought I was a prostitute who had wandered in and needed to be escorted out,” Jo fired back, a challenge for Mr. Antonsson to dare find a way to defend such behavior.<br/><br/>Mr. Antonsson slowly closed his eyes, as though holding back a pained cringe. When he opened his eyes, they were again warm and inviting, his expression on the verge of a smile. “I don’t believe,” he said, “that we have been officially introduced. I’m Adam Antonsson.”<br/><br/>Jo looked as though he were looking for a hidden insult. Warily, he offered his name, a blunt, brusque, single syllable: “Jo.”<br/><br/>“Jo,” Mr. Antonsson said “my friend is a fool, but this once, I shall forgive him because it leaves your night open and allows me the opportunity to ask you for your first dance tonight.”<br/><br/>The anger melted from Jo’s face. Felix could see the moment of mental scramble on Jo’s part—likely struggling to toss aside any vestiges of bitter anger so that he could fall back into his usual coquettish behavior.<br/><br/>“Well,” Jo said, his lips sliding into a slanted quirk, “I can forgive him this once, I suppose. Though while I may forgive, I shan’t forget the slight to my character.” Jo’s expression pulled into a pout that wasn’t completely playful.<br/><br/>“There you are!” someone boomed, voice gruff and grumpy: Coen. He easily cleared a path towards the Hollyhock boys with his intimidating stature and noticeable height. When he came close, he took one of the glasses from Markus, knocked back a large swallow, and handed it off to Felix as though he expected Felix to do the same. Coen continued, “I thought it odd you gentlemen would wander off before I could properly introduce you to our new neighbor. As it turns out, none of you have patience for an old codger like me to catch his bearings and start the introductions. Oh, no—you go and break etiquette and approach the poor man on your own!”<br/><br/>The five brothers peered and blinked at Coen in various shades of confusion. Some—namely, Markus—had no idea what was even going on, not really. Some—namely Seth—looked as disheartened as a kicked puppy at the lecture.<br/><br/>“Oh, Coen,” Mr. Antonsson said, “from our previous conversation, I know that you’re not one to fiercely adhere to such customs, and I hope you’ve realized that I’m much the same.”<br/><br/>Computations began to fire off in Felix’s brain. “You,” he said, surprised but not displeased, “you’re our new neighbor. The lord of Netherfield.”<br/><br/>Mr. Antonsson smiled and dipped into a small bow.<br/><br/>“But you’re so handsome!” Seth said, as though that were the issue.<br/><br/>“You’re not a very imposing lord,” Casper noted.<br/><br/>“I get to dance with the new, rich bachelor!” Jo crowed, kissing his lips and holding them up as though offering thanks to some deity.<br/><br/>“Gentlemen!” Coen barked, tone fierce. They all quieted obediently. “Now,” Coen growled, “we’re going to do this properly, as I originally intended. Here is our new neighbor and lord of Netherfield, Lord Adam Antonsson.”<br/><br/>“The title isn’t necessary,” Mr. Antonsson told them with a laugh that bordered on bashful. “You’re allowed to call me Adam, if you want. All my close associates do.”<br/><br/>“Which you are not,” Coen barked, then added: “Yet. I hope that does become the case, however.”<br/><br/>“Well, <em>Adam</em>,” Jo cut in, voice sing-song as a piano tempo started up, “you promised me a dance, remember?”<br/><br/>“Son,” Coen rumbled in warning, “what did I just say?”<br/><br/>“Well, as <em>you</em> keep pointing out, I don’t actually live at Hollyhock,” Jo replied, too innocent, “and thus, you aren’t my guardian to make such decisions.”<br/><br/>Coen scowled. Jo’s smile was viciously victorious. He turned back to Mr. Antonsson and offered his hand.<br/><br/>“And <em>this</em>,” Coen said pointedly, holding a hand on Jo’s shoulder to keep him from fully reaching for Mr. Antonsson, very insistent on seeing this proper greeting to its completion, “is our pleasant neighbor, Jo.”<br/><br/>“Nice to meet you, Jo,” Mr. Antonsson said without a trace of sarcasm or humor.<br/><br/>“And then, of course, you have my boys,” Coen interjected before Jo could pull Mr. Antonsson away. “My oldest, Markus.” Markus quickly glanced at Mr. Antonsson before his eyes flicked away. “The second oldest, Felix.” At which point he gave a theatrical bow, perhaps only a little sarcastic given how ridiculous it was that Coen insisted they properly introduce themselves when they had already been acquainted for over a week. “Casper,” Coen continued, gesturing. Casper muttered something that sounded like “Nothing glorious about being stuck in the middle.” Coen did not acknowledge the comment but kept on, “Seth is the second youngest.” Seth, flushing a little, offered a shy smile and wave. “And the youngest, Trevor.” At which point Trevor gave a long belch.<br/><br/>“Wine makes me gassy,” he explained.<br/><br/>“And <em>now</em>,” Jo interjected, making an obvious effort not to whine and (fortunately for Trevor) distracting the bemused group from the current thread of conversation, “are you going to let me dance?”<br/><br/>Coen made a dismissive gesture as if to say, <em>Away with you already, then</em>.<br/><br/>“I did promise you the first dance,” Mr. Antonsson said agreeably. He offered his arm to Jo, who took it with a gleeful grin and proceeded to drag him to the area that had been cleared for dancing partners.<br/><br/>Felix enjoyed the bubbly grin that curled and crinkled Jo’s expression into a lovely expression of laughing joy. As Jo and Adam lined up with the other dancers on the floor, however, a woman approached the Hollyhock party. She was familiar, and Felix worked to place her. Large shoulders, wide hips, elegant grey curls organized atop her head with such fashion that it had to be a wig.<br/><br/>“Coen,” the woman said in a tone that bordered imperious, “I see you gathered your ruffians and cleaned them up well enough to attend my social.”<br/><br/>Ah. Lady of the house, then.<br/><br/>The lady extended her hand as Coen acknowledged her, letting him kiss her knuckles. He did so with a half-hearted, murmured greeting. Felix guessed that Coen was displeased about the “ruffian” comment and was trying not to let it color his reception of their host too terribly.<br/><br/>The two stared at each other, Coen’s eyes as hard and cold as frozen metal. The lady, meanwhile, wore an indulgent smile—the sort of expression Felix had seen parents give their wayward, young children. The sort of expression that seemed to say, <em>Your behavior is not something I normally tolerate, but you amuse me and so I shall offer you the privilege of being forgiven just this once.<br/><br/></em>Felix could see Coen’s patience dying with each passing second and floundered for a neutral topic of conversation he could offer.<br/><br/>“What a lovely ball, Lady Lady,” Seth blurted into the tense silence obliviously with a grin.<br/><br/>The old woman’s dark eyes moved from Coen to Seth. She eyed him as though he were a curious new bird she had never seen before. Casper took a deep breath—likely to cover a groan—and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling to carefully inspect a chandelier.<br/><br/>Seth swallowed nervously under her heavy scrutiny and—likely in an attempt to act formal and polite, as he was trained to be in such circumstances—offered another compliment. “The musical accompaniments are lovely. You chose a very skilled pianist to play tonight, Lady Lady.”<br/><br/>The old woman pursed her lips as she contemplated Seth and the issue he posed. It seemed the woman couldn’t decide what to think of the young man, but was too distracted wondering if he was mentally deficient to worry too hard or far on the issue.<br/><br/>“Thank you for inviting us, my Lady Lady,” Seth rattled on.<br/><br/>“Yes,” the elderly woman replied tonelessly, not giving away her thoughts on her conversation partner. She cast another appraising look over Seth and opened her mouth to speak further, but before she could, Jo bounded over once more, happily tugging Adam behind him.<br/><br/>“What a lovely night!” Jo crowed happily at the same time Casper elbowed Seth and hissed, “That’s <em>not</em> what I meant.”<br/><br/>“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” the lady of the house told Jo blandly with a critical perusal of his attire but making no comment on it.<br/><br/>“You told me to call her ‘Lady,’” Seth hissed back to Casper petulantly, rubbing at his sore ribs.<br/><br/>“I quite enjoyed myself, as well,” Adam added brightly. “I’m happy to dance with anyone else who will have me.”<br/><br/>“I told you to call her <em>‘My Lady,’”</em> Casper snarled under his breath. “Who the hell is named<em> Lady</em>?”<br/><br/>“Markus would love to dance, I’m sure!” Felix said loudly, hoping to drown out the too-loud-to-be-discreet argument brewing between his two younger brothers. He turned towards Markus and smiled encouragingly.<br/><br/>Markus startled at the sudden attention that had fallen on him before returning Felix’s smile with one that was strained with irritation. Quite plainly, Markus didn’t want to dance with anyone that night.<br/><br/>“I think you’re more suited to that,” Markus gritted out as politely as he could manage.<br/><br/>“I’m happy to dance with anyone who is willing,” Adam said cordially.<br/><br/>“Yes, please!” Seth burst out. A small, awkward silence filled the space. Seth colored a deep shade of red and muttered something to his toes.<br/><br/>While overly eager to socialize, mingle, and thoroughly enjoy the party, it was obvious that Seth needed a moment to cool his head, calm down, and gain his wits. He was often doing sporadic and silly things, lost in the moment. A flustered Seth was a Seth who was likely to embarrass himself. Normally, Felix would have encouraged Adam to dance with one of his brothers, but Markus was still casting a discreet look of warning at him and Seth was still mumbling and pink-faced.<br/><br/>“I’d be happy to dance with you,” Felix told Adam.<br/><br/>And so, they danced. Felix rather enjoyed it. Adam was obviously well learned and moved gracefully without hesitation, without a single fumble or stepping on Felix’s toes. Even more pleasing, Adam chatted with him as they danced. Felix was pleased considering he had always enjoyed and practiced dancing, and he most enjoyed a competent partner with whom he could hold conversation.<br/><br/>“Your friend is leaning against the wall, skulking in the shadows,” Felix informed Mr. Antonsson with a playful glint in his eye. “Perhaps we can yet find a way to have him suffer our company and even dance.”<br/><br/>Mr. Antonsson glanced where Felix was looking. “Ah, yes. Hunter.” A thoughtful look flickered over Mr. Antonsson’s features. “You might not have the best of luck asking him to dance, but I do believe he would find conversation with you invigorating.”<br/><br/>“My brothers are all going to fall for you,” Felix said musingly, teasingly, “and I cannot say I blame them.”<br/><br/>Mr. Antonsson’s laugh was surprised and pleasant. “Your brothers, but not you?” he asked, his voice equally teasing.<br/><br/>“I’m not so foolish as to fall for someone just for their face, lovely as it is,” Felix informed him, matter-of-fact. “And I think you and I are better suited as friends.”<br/><br/>Mr. Antonsson looked bemused but didn’t disagree. As the song and dance both ended, Felix felt his eyes returning to where Mr. Henderson stood, leaning against the wall, arms gently folded across his chest.<br/><br/>“I suppose I’ll take your advice,” Felix murmured. “Maybe I’ll see you on the dance floor again, you with another of my brothers and me with your friend.”<br/><br/>A surprised huff of laughter from Mr. Antonsson. “I’d like to see it so.”<br/><br/>They separated with small dips of their heads.<br/><br/>Mr. Henderson looked uncomfortable and miserable. The expression reminded Felix of Markus, somehow. Closed off like a turtle who had stubbornly receded into its shell. That was the most likely reason why Felix found his way across the room, staring up into Mr. Henderson’s honey-gold eyes and smiling, a peace offering.<br/><br/>“If you stand in the shadows and glower, nobody will ask you to dance,” Felix said.<br/><br/>Mr. Henderson’s frown, if possible, deepened. “That is the general idea, yes,” he responded in a tone that implied that was also how he wanted to continue to pursue the night.<br/><br/>“You have no inclination to dance at a social designed just around that?” Felix asked curiously. “Then why attend tonight’s party?”<br/><br/>Mr. Henderson seemed to take the honest questions as a challenge of honor or pride. He gritted his teeth, a lovely—if angry—flush settling over the arches of his cheeks. “I find it hard,” Mr. Henderson said, irritation making his words clipped, “to enjoy dancing with people I do not know.”<br/><br/>“If you don’t know them,” Felix said breezily, “maybe you should speak with them, as we are now.”<br/><br/>These words Mr. Henderson’s apparently took as a personal attack. His lovely honey-colored eyes narrowed and his tone lost most of its civility when he growled, quite bluntly, “Go away.”<br/><br/>Felix found he didn’t particularly want to. Mr. Henderson reminded him, in a way, of Markus. Awkward and fumbling and particularly enjoyable to verbally spar with. However, Mr. Henderson had made an honest point when he said that he was strangers with everyone there—including Felix. And it would be painfully rude to force his company upon someone who didn’t wish it.<br/><br/>And so, with a wink, Felix told Mr. Henderson, “Just remember, I’m here all night if you need me.”<br/><br/>Mr. Henderson’s expression flattened further, if possible, and he offered no comment as Felix retreated. His brothers were scattered about—Seth was on the dance floor with Mr. Antonsson, eyes wide, smile pleased, cheeks a merry hue of apple red, even as he stumbled all over Mr. Antonsson’s poor toes—but Felix’s eyes continued to comb through the crowds until he found the one he was looking for.<br/><br/>And ah, it would figure Markus was mimicking Mr. Henderson on the opposite side of the room, trying to hide in the few shadows that existed in the well-lit, overly bright room. Likely, Markus was keeping his distance from the party and trying to recuperate after being dragged into so many conversations. Normally, Markus was one to speak to no one and do very little other than play the part of background furniture at these socials. Felix had hoped that might change, but...<br/><br/>“Not going to dance with Mr. Antonsson?” Felix asked.<br/><br/>Markus glanced at where Mr. Antonsson was separating from Seth, who was still pleased and grinning. “He has enough people to dance with.”<br/><br/>Felix frowned at the unspoken words: <em>He doesn’t need to dance with me</em>.<br/><br/>“Do you want to dance with him?” Felix tried.<br/><br/>Markus shrugged the question off and began to inch away, like he thought he could merge into the crowd and escape this conversation.<br/><br/>Felix linked an arm through one of Markus’, not letting him avoid the topic so easily. “Do you?” he pressed.<br/><br/>“It doesn’t matter what I want,” Markus muttered, tugging at his arm.<br/><br/>Felix adjusted his grip, still not letting go. “It does.”<br/><br/>“It doesn’t. Now, let me go. I have to—I have to meet someone,” Markus muttered. Normally, Felix might have accused Markus of telling tales or making excuses to avoid matters, but the way Markus glanced uncomfortably around as he said it spoke volumes to his honesty.<br/><br/>Felix was so surprised he dropped his grip on his older brother. “Wait—really?”<br/><br/>“Yeah. I’m supposed to head out to the balcony,” Markus mumbled, fidgeting, still edging away.<br/><br/>Felix took a step to follow after and ask who he was meeting, but his attention was snagged by two distinct voices—Mr. Antonsson and Mr. Henderson. They were faint, but the words grew more cohesive with each syllable, like the speakers were slowly making their way closer to him.<br/><br/>“You could at least dance with one person,” Mr. Antonsson said in a gently admonishing tone.<br/><br/>“That would require a passable dance partner,” Mr. Henderson bit out.<br/><br/>“The gentlemen from Hollyhock House are a cheerful lot,” Mr. Antonsson offered.<br/><br/>“They are—” Mr. Henderson cut himself off abruptly, as though not sure how to finish that sentence. After a heartbeat of deliberative silence, he finally concluded, “Gentlemen.” He said that final word as though he had wanted to add an adjective to accompany it and had employed great self-control in his word choice—namely, the lack of said accompanying adjective.<br/><br/>Felix frowned and cast his eyes about, trying to discern where the two were that he could hear them but not see them, especially if they were approaching him.<br/><br/>“There’s nothing wrong with their being gentlemen,” Mr. Antonsson chastised.<br/><br/>“No,” Mr. Henderson agreed curtly. “Not if that’s what you prefer. I don’t.”<br/><br/>“They’re all very charming. And the second eldest is quite an accomplished dancer,” Mr. Antonsson continued easily. A beat of silence, and Mr. Henderson must have cast Mr. Antonsson a curious or confused glance for Mr. Antonsson continued, in a tone that suggested he was answering a silent question, “Felix. The dark-haired brother.”<br/><br/>It was terribly rude to eavesdrop, and Felix wasn’t indulging in the practice out of malice. Any guilt he felt was chased away at the shift in conversation, however. He actually found himself suddenly interested to hear what Mr. Henderson had to say about him. Perhaps, like Markus, Mr. Henderson merely struggled to properly voice his emotions and—<br/><br/>Mr. Henderson made a disbelieving, scoffing noise. “He could be a dancer trained by the finest tutors in the world, ready to start a debut in the Russian ballet, and I still would not be interested in his lot.”<br/><br/>And Felix was a fool to think that Mr. Henderson was remotely interested in him, even as a friend.<br/><br/>“I heard you turned down their friend,” Mr. Antonsson said.<br/><br/>“As I said,” Mr. Henderson said, tone firmer, “I’m not interested in their lot.”<br/><br/>“It’s unfortunate for you that you turned that fine, young gentleman down. He was a wonderful dance partner. They were all pleasant dance partners,” Mr. Antonsson continued.<br/><br/>Even Seth, fumbling and crunching Mr. Antonsson’s toes? Felix doubted that very much, but his heart filled with warmth that Mr. Antonsson hadn’t shared that detail.<br/><br/>“I do believe a rabid rat in a filthy London alley would make for better company than anyone from the Hollyhock hou—”<br/><br/>And then Felix learned why he had not been able to see either young man. Apparently, they had gone down a corridor right next to Felix to use the restroom and were returning. Mr. Henderson was two paces ahead of Mr. Antonsson, face flushed in irritation and steps fast and hurried. He flew around the corner of the corridor and nearly knocked straight into Felix.<br/><br/>“Oh,” Mr. Henderson muttered, taking notice of Felix. His lip twitched as he stared at Felix, who had clearly been caught eavesdropping—or, if not eavesdropping, who had obviously heard the tail end of that conversation.<br/><br/>“I suppose a rabid rat might have more interesting tales to tell of the city,” Felix said calmly, “seeing as little happens in the countryside and we have little to talk about. However, if you would only push down your arrogant conceit long enough to accept friendship and charity when it’s honestly and openly offered to you, I think you’ll find that you wouldn’t need to resort to speaking to filthy vermin in dirty alleys.”<br/><br/>Mr. Henderson opened his mouth but had nothing to say. Felix inclined his head politely at both of the young men—Mr. Henderson, still floundering for words and Mr. Antonsson, who looked pained—and turned his back on them to stalk around the room in search of Markus.<br/><br/>Markus was gone. Ah, right, Markus had commented that someone had asked him to meet them. That was good for Markus. He needed to make friends. And while unlikely, Felix quietly hoped that a potential romance could bloom soon for Markus. Unlikely, yes, but possible, and he deserved it. Besides, where had Markus said he was meeting this person? Hadn’t it been in an intimate setting? Like the—<br/><br/>“Someone leapt from the balcony!” someone cried. “Suicide attempt on the balcony!”<br/><br/>Like the balcony.<br/><br/>Felix rushed through the room of confused and upset party-goers, eyes locked on the balcony. Large French doors led to the elegant balcony. They were open and inviting, allowing any who wished some privacy to escape if they wished.<br/><br/>There was nobody standing on the open expanse. Felix moved to the railing and leaned over, looking down. Below, a story below, the garden was well manicured, bushes trimmed and shaped into what was likely pleasant figures. But there, in a cluster of rose bushes, was a pair of legs, flailing. As Felix watched, the legs managed to somehow pull a torso out of the deeper threshold of the bushes. A head and arms soon followed.<br/><br/>“Markus,” Felix breathed. He turned and dashed for the main doors, rushing down the large and elegant stairs that led to the front lawn, darting around to the back of the house.<br/><br/>Markus was sitting ungracefully next to the bush, pulling thorns out of his rumpled and torn clothes.<br/><br/>“Are you okay?” Felix asked in a rush as he threw himself down onto the ground next to Markus and began gently poking and prodding, seeking out broken bones or displaced joints.<br/><br/>“Yeah,” Markus mumbled. “Just have got poked with some thorns.”<br/><br/>Before Felix could begin to express his relief, someone else rushed onto the scene, footfalls quick and panicked.<br/><br/>“Markus!” Mr. Antonsson exclaimed as he slid to a halt before them. “You’re alright?”<br/><br/>Markus fiddled with the small handful of thorns he had pulled from his clothes. “Yeah, ‘m’fine.”<br/><br/>Mr. Antonsson eyed Markus closely, kneeling down to mimic Felix’s earlier examination, minus the poking and prodding. Felix moved aside to make room for Mr. Antonsson.<br/><br/>“It looks like you just have a few scrapes and punctures, but nothing too deep or serious,” Mr. Antonsson said.<br/><br/>“That’s what I said,” Markus groused.<br/><br/>Mr. Antonsson offered Markus a hand and helped him to his feet. “You should put ointment on those and cover the worst of them to avoid festering.”<br/><br/>“I can call the carriage,” Felix interjected.<br/><br/>“You can use mine if your family only brought one,” Mr. Antonsson offered. “Hunter came in his own carriage, but he’s staying at my manor and we can take his to return to Netherfield.”<br/><br/>“A kind offer,” a loud voice rumbled from behind them, “but not necessary.”<br/><br/>The turned their attention to Coen, who approached in long, angry strides. Behind him trailed Casper, Seth, and Trevor, all three of them with concerned expressions.<br/><br/>“I wouldn’t be able to stay at a party while one of my boys is wounded at home,” Coen continued. “And I doubt my other boys would, either. We shall all return home.”<br/><br/>“What is going on?” the lady of the house demanded from above on the balcony, looking down at them. Several more party-goers crowded in from behind her, peering down to stare curiously at Markus as the dame continued in an almost-irritated tone, “Someone has informed me there has been a suicide attempt.”<br/><br/>“There has been no such thing,” Coen called back, not even needing to lift his voice for it to carry to the elderly woman.<br/><br/>“Then what <em>did</em> happen?” the woman demanded.<br/><br/>“Nothing of concern,” Coen assured her, eyes flickering among the various other party guests who were pushing their way out to the balcony, all of them curious to see what was going on. Felix knew that Coen wouldn’t discuss nor would he press Markus to discuss personal issues in front of a crowd.<br/><br/>The lady of the house said something else, but her voice was lost to the murmur of the curious guests who stood around her. Coen decided not to ask her to repeat herself, but instead refocused on Markus. “You can walk?”<br/><br/>He nodded.<br/><br/>“Let us be off, then,” Coen said, turning abruptly and strolling off to find the coach.<br/><br/>“You’re sure you don’t need help walking?” Mr. Antonsson asked as Markus took a limping step.<br/><br/>“Yes,” Markus gritted between his teeth and took another step, this one markedly less limping, though Felix suspected that was through conscious effort on Markus’ part and not because it didn’t pain him. Markus, asking for help? That was less likely to happen than snow in the middle of summer on a particularly hot and humid day.<br/><br/>Felix moved to loop one of Markus’ arms through his and help bear some of his weight. “It was very nice to see you again, and to officially meet you. And also, to dance with you,” Felix said to Mr. Antonsson. “It’s a shame this party was so large that we didn’t have more opportunity to speak and dance.”<br/><br/>Mr. Antonsson smiled, a small, tired thing. “Yes, it is a shame. Perhaps I’ll hold a social of my own at some point and make it a smaller, private event.”<br/><br/>“That would be charming.”<br/><br/>“And of course,” he continued, “you would be invited. You’re quite the accomplished dancer.”<br/><br/>Markus allowed himself a small groan.<br/><br/>“Are you hurting?” Mr. Antonsson immediately asked, concern flickering in his eyes.<br/><br/>“Oh, yes,” Felix muttered drily. “<em>Really</em> hurting.”<br/><br/>Felix was pretty sure Markus was under the impression that attending another social event was more deadly than falling off of a balcony.<br/><br/>“Gentlemen,” Coen called as the Hollyhock carriage came into view, led by two very old and very tired looking draft horses. “Let us be off.”<br/><br/>“Have a good night,” Mr. Antonsson said, bidding them good night.<br/><br/>And so, after only attending the event for a brief stint, the Hollyhock boys returned home with their guardian, all of them entranced with their new neighbor in various ways.</p>
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